


Close Your Eyes (and count to sixteen)

by Rossinante



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Break Up, Dirty Talk, Drug Dealing, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild Blood, Misunderstandings, Tags will be added, With a Dash of Smut, finally smut, flint is a baker, heartbroken flint, oh no angst, okay its not that dirty, omelettes are sexy, silver is a tattooist, still super fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-05-30 10:05:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6419482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rossinante/pseuds/Rossinante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Flint owns a local bakery, where one John Silver takes shelter after a run in with Charles Vane's gang. There's a spark between the baker and the artist- but small worlds are the curse of every new relationship, especially when Flint isn't exactly what he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Simpler Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting so I'm kind of nervous...  
> Please give construct crit if you want. I've got no beta or much time to check the work so sorry if there are any mistakes- I'll sort them out later!  
> Thank you x

James Flint enjoyed the simpler things in life; a soft bed, the sound of coffee brewing, a new book on something his friends would consider boring like America history or maps. Alas more often than not, strange or exciting things would happen to James- much to his displeasure. He avoided such encounters as much as possible. So on the fateful Saturday night, as James closed his bakery, and John Silver ran into his shop with a bloodied face James was needless to say; a bit pissed off. 

"Who the fuck are you?" James choked in disbelief clutching the tub of dirty pots and pans to his chest. The curly haired man started, his wild blue eyes falling on James with equal shock. 

"Oh hello, I'm John Silver and I happen to be in need of some place to hide." He stated breathlessly. James opened and closed his mouth several times before deciding what to say. 

"Who's after you?" 

"Charles Vane and his crones." John tutted and run his hands through his unkempt hair sending the curls flying around his face, "bastards think I stole his cash." 

"Did you?" James asked and John's reply was a dazzling, toothy smile. 

"Perhaps. Which isn't to say I did, but also it would be a lie to say it wasn't taken." John babbled, glancing out of the window pane again. 

"The way you talk, I'm not surprised you've got a bleeding nose..." John hurriedly wiped his sleeve across his face with a wince. "Go in the kitchen." James sighed, John looked surprised, "I know Charles Vane, and I know how much he likes money so I'd feel a bit guilty if I chucked you out now- whether you're innocent or not." "You're a Godsend." John smiled again and followed James into the kitchen. the baker dumped the pans into the sink and began scrubbing, leaving the stranger to look around. "Can I help?" 

"Huh?" James flinched when he found John leaning over his shoulder, the man smirked when he saw James blush slightly. His coat hung on the wall by the aprons, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing gorgeously tanned forearms with tattoos blotted across them. 

"You've sheltered me from a certain death... or a certain beating, the least I can do is wash some pots." John explained, picking up a tea towel. James shrugged nonchalantly which John took as his queue to continue the conversation, much to the baker's dismay. 

"So you work here?" 

"I own the place." 

John made a impressed noise and placed another mixing bowl on the counter, "fancy." James snorted and held up a bowl caked in clumps of flour and egg. "Very fancy." 

John chuckled and they feel into silence, until the sink was empty. James was relieved to have had some help, he let Anne and Jack go early on most days but today had been so busy there was still a mountain of cleaning to do including his work from the wedding gig. 

"It's been enough time, they must've passed by now." John interrupted James' thoughts, poking him in the shoulder with a spoon. His heart sank- much to his surprise- and John seemed to notice because he smirked, "don't feel bad, it's been a nice reprieve but I must continue my great escape." The man touched James bicep with his finger tips, a lingering gesture that only lasted a moment before John turned on his heel and disappeared out of the shop. James was left with a flush and strange feeling of foreboding. 

-

The encounter had barely lasted an hour but James didn't stop thinking about John Silver for the next four days. His thoughts constantly strayed to those dark tattoos, piercing blue eyes and curly hair James thought would be wonderful to bury fingers into and-- 

"Boss those eggs ain't gonna beat themselves." Anne's voice stopped him mid fantasy- he had zoned out with his whisk half in the cup of eggs. He gruffly mumbled something about not getting enough sleep before vigorously stirring the poor yolks. Anne paused a moment in bewilderment, then picked up her tray of fresh buns and took them to the front. 

After that James distracted himself with preparing more samples and occasionally restocking the displays, John pushed to the back of his mind. He avoided the front-of-house on busy days, most of the time he was too unapproachable and frightened a lot of the customers. Jack was the only one who could charm all the girls and boys who came in, it was his only virtue as he couldn't cook for shit. The "anti-social squad" as Jack liked to referred to them, of Anne Bonny and James were the creative geniuses behind Urca Bakery. 

It was three o'clock and James was sweaty and a mess, his entire front was splattered with the components of a lemon drizzle cake, a streak of flour highlight his ginger hair from forehead to bun, although Anne had decided not to tell him of it. 

"James, there's some here to see you!" Jack sang through the door, James raised his eyebrows in curiosity- had Miranda come to see him? He poked his head through and immediately felt the colour in his checks rise. At the counter stood a fresh faced John Silver, dressed in a brown leather jacket and snood. Shades were tucked into his curls, pushing them away from his face and showing off his soft cheek and jawline. He was beaming at James, while Jack looked between them his expression less than impressed. 

"So your name is James! I didn't catch it last time I was here." John called, slapping his hands on the counter. 

"Last time?" Jack repeated incredulously. 

"Oh, uh... oh." James said stupidly making John giggle, James didn't realise a grown man could giggle.  
"I'll give you two a very needed moment." Jack snorted, flouncing into the kitchen to most likely find Anne and gush everything. The shop was quiet, a couple of customers sat drinking coffees languidly and chatting about nothing. James stepped up to the counter, facing John suddenly feeling bashful under a blue, probing gaze. There was a tiny cut on the bridge of the man's nose, the only visible evidence of his encounter.

"I thought I ought to come and thank you properly for saving my arse." John leaned on the counter, gazing up at James through long lashes. 

"Your welcome?" He replied dumbly, fiddling with the knot of his apron. John smirked then reached out, running his fingers into James' hair, who was frozen under the touch. The man's fingers came away white as evidence of his wholesome intentions. The baker mumbled something close to a 'thank you'.

"I also thought I could buy you a cup of coffee? Or tea, if you don't like coffee which is fine, I don't like coffee I'm a PG Tips kinda guy..." John's cool exterior slipped slightly as he spoke and James realised he wasn't the only one who was nervous. 

"Look I... " 

"It's okay if you can't, I'm not trying to pressure you." John blurted pulling at his hair slightly. 

"No, it's just I'm at work so..." 

"You can go." The two jumped in surprise, and turned to find Anne and Jack watching them from the kitchen door. 

"Are-are you sure?" James asked skeptically. 

"James, weev worked for you for three years, mate, we can handle one afternoon without ya." Anne grunted irritably. Jack nodded behind her with enthusiasm. James glanced back to John who's face was hopeful, and the purity of his sweet smile made James' walls crack. 

"Okay... let me get my coat." 

-

It was chilly on the high street and sparse of people; everyone hidden indoors or wrapped in coats so they resembled blobs more than humans. James tightened his coat around him, the cold stinging his ears and nose. Next to him John seemed quiet happy, even in just a leather jacket, although his hands were tucked securely in the pockets and the scarf was pulled over his nose. It made James smile slightly as they waited in line at the coffee stand and John noticed. 

"You should smile more." He commented nudging James with an elbow, unwilling to expose his hand to the biting air. 

"I'm not a very smiley person I'm afraid." James replied gravely, hoping the cold would disguise his blush. 

"Oh, I bet you are you just need to hear the right joke." John smiled then paused, "so what's your full name? You know mine, it's only fair." 

"James Flint." 

"Sounds fake." 

"Perhaps." James saw John's eye go wide and then throw his head back with a laugh. They brought two teas and took a seat at one of the rickety metal tables. James tore open four sugar sachets and stirred them into the tea. 

"You're a sweet tooth, no wonder you're a baker." John took a sip from the cup and sighed gratefully. James hummed in acknowledgement, it was true; he had been pretty fat for most of his teens when he discovered how to eat his feelings. Joining the navy had quickly got him into shape, but his passion for the culinary arts had eventually made him change directions early on. 

"I'm a baker, and you are..." James let the statement hang. When John didn't reply- simply pursing his lips to hide a smile- James continued, "A thief? Many a con-man, if you're in anyway involved with Charles Vane's affairs it can't be something wholesome." 

"Like a baker?" 

"Exactly, like a baker." 

John laughed and took another sip of his tea before saying anything, James gazed at the man's gorgeous mouth that was reddened by the sweet head of the tea returning to the present when he spoke. "I'm an artist. A tattoo artist, my friends and I just moved here to open up a shop." 

"How did you already annoy Vane?" Flint said in disbelief. 

"Max- my colleague- she cleverly borrowed some money from that fucking loan shark for some new equipment, and he decided to chase me up about it. Two weeks in town and I'm already making enemies. Figures." He chuckled bitterly. 

"Charles is a dick. He hates everyone for one reason or another." James tutted, twisting the button of his coat. 

"You don't sound afraid of him." John phrased the statement as a question and James indulged him only for a moment. 

"We're... acquaintances you could say. I'm not easily scare of a boy with a big stick." James murmured, John looked ready to ask a follow up that James knew he wasn't prepared to answer so he quickly continued talking, "the ink on your arms, is it your own work?" 

"Mostly, I didn't do this one." John sat forward and pulled his sleeves up, turning his arms up on either side on the table. James leaned forward curiously as John pointed to a tattoo on his left upper arm; it was an image of a raven, the lines were thick and dark. It sat atop a dark green snake which was held in its claws, yet it's tail was wrapped around the bird throat. 

"Max designed and inked this one. I'm not fond of colour but she did a good job." John explained, James instinctively reached out and traced his fingertips along the birds back. He heard the man's breath hitch subtly, and he flicked his gaze up studying John's expression. He looked almost far too openly debauched than what would be appropriate in public; his wet lips slightly parted and his eyes half lidded, their shocking blue almost consumed by iris- for a moment James indulged himself in the possibility that John a kink of some kind. But he quickly drew his tingling hand from soft skin and curled it back round the cup. 

"It's amazing work. The ship, I like that a lot." James quickly added, indicating- without contact- his other arm. Below the wrist sat the lighter image of a boat, it's bow raised by a crashing wave. James could see the difference in design, John's work seemed more realistic than Max's. 

"T-thank you. Do you have ink?" John croaked, pulling the sleeves back. 

"I do, only a little. I've never really found a design I wanted." James shrugged, his hand unconsciously moving to his thigh. 

"Or an artist." John suggested in a faux sultry tone. James raised his eyebrows then let himself smile widely, genuinely. This seemed to please John, who relaxed again and sat back in his chair. 

"Why did you become a baker?" John asked. 

"Ah, it wasn't my original plan but Thomas said I should follow my heart not my grandfather's desires so here I am." He explained, popping the lid off the tea and hovering his fingers over the warm air it expelled. 

"Thomas?" 

James stopped breathing, "what?" 

"You... said Thomas. Is he an old flame?" John asked, his voice was suddenly so soft and kind. James hadn't realised he'd let it slip, he was furious with himself. 

"I don't want to... it's in the past." James muttered, avoiding John's shamefully kind eyes. He felt a hand touch his cautiously and it burned. "I should go." James blurted, drawing himself away and standing suddenly. 

"I'm sorry if I said something out of turn, I didn't mean to pry. It's none of my business." John quickly babbled scrambling to his feet and blocking James' exit. The baker took several slow breaths- in through his nose, out through his mouth- to stop the spinning. 

"No it's my fault, I shouldn't have reacted like that. It's a sensitive topic, you weren't to know." James sighed and made an aborted movement to touch John's shoulder. Despite his assurance, John still looked unsure. "Let me walk you home?" James offered in concession. 

"I've got to go to the shop and finish some paperwork. It's just 10 minutes that way." John replied, looking a little less dejected as he jerked a finger over his shoulder. 

"Lead the way." 

-

They walked quietly, onto the avenue just off Nassau's main high street. James struggled to think of anything to say, his mind still occupied by his slip up. He'd so easily said Thomas name, without even thinking about it. It was mostly guilt he felt at uttering his name without a prayer or moments pause. His truest love's name so simply used was a travesty. And so this thought lead to more guilty, guilt over John and what was growing between them. Was it real? He didn't want to hurt John. Thomas had been, or so he'd thought, the only man he ever felt anything for. And now this beautiful, graceful man walked by his side, their shoulders bumping. James shook the thoughts from his head and glanced at John who's curls had fallen around his face again. 

"We haven't thought of a name." John spoke suddenly. James made an acknowledging noise in his throat, "yeah, I thought 'Silver Ink' would be cool? Or maybe 'Black sails'." 

"I like Silver Ink." James offered and the artist beamed at him. James realised he would do anything, say anything, to see his smile like that. 

"That's the right answer, and another vote in my corner." John grinned, he caught James' arm and guided him towards a tall building with a newly painted front. The sign was blank and the windows covered with cardboard to hide the inside. "This is my stop." John fumbled in his pocket for a set of keys James saw were mostly made up of accessories with funny things on them- one was a cartoon Walrus laying on his back with a pirate hat on. James watched him find the right key and unlock the door, stepping onto the threshold making them almost the same height. 

"I'm sorry I ruined our..." James fumbled for the right word "This." He finished in defeat. 

"Don't. I actually had a good time. Could I come and see you again? Soon?" John asked quietly, reaching forward. His fingers skidded over James' chest, resting on his ribs. James suddenly became very aware of his uneven breathing. 

"Y-yes." James nodded. John smiled and tentatively, leaned forward to brush his lips across James' cheek in a chaste kiss. 

"Good." John murmured against his skin, before stepping back and flashing that infectious smile. "I'll see you soon Mr.Flint." 

James was left dumbstruck as John shut the door gently. In somewhat of a daze, James wandered back to the bakery all dark thoughts expelled from his mind. It was a short respite until he stepped into the dark kitchen and flicked on the lights to find Edward Teach and Charles Vane sat at the work bench.


	2. Freckled Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little POV Change (dundundun!) enjoy x

"Oh fucking hell." James growled, dropping his keys on the counter. 

"That's no way to greet old friends." Edward Teach tutted from under his matted beard, Charles' chuckle that followed released a billow of smoke from his lips where a cigarette hung. James approached the table and grabbed it from Charles mouth, dipping it in his glass of water. 

"Not in my fucking kitchen." Flint said in reply to the murderous look Charles gave him. It was petty but James couldn't help himself around them, "you've got five minutes to tell me why you're here." 

Teach glared at James for a moment. The look was one that most would wither and die under, but James stoically returned the gaze with equal enmity. 

"We've been informed by mutual friends, that you were harbouring an individual greatly desired by son, on the grounds that he stole a great deal of money, a night ago- goes by the name John Silver." Edward concluded neatly. 

"And if I did?" James asked, folding his arms. 

"James, we understand that you rejected our- perfectly reasonable and beneficial- business arrangement, but if you threaten to sabotage my goals out of spite... You understand, we couldn't let that go." 

"You're drug traffickers and loan sharks, Teach, stop trying to make it sound like something it isn't. Not all of us who are discharged turn to crime." 

"Dishonourably discharged, James, it's something you often forget. My enterprise contain all kinds of activity, some more legal than others but do not think for a second that you and I are so different. This charming facade you've built for yourself may give you a sense of redemption, but it is a delusion." Teach stood, his huge frame towering over James, "there is no forgiveness for the pain we caused, Charles and I have accepted this fact and armoured ourselves with it. You on the other hand? You have become soft like the dough you play with." There was a moment of ominous silence, in which James quietly considered his next step. He hid his shaking hands and wet eyes, only meeting Teachs when he felt his heart rate level. 

"He didn't steal anything." James coolly replied. Charles banged his fist on the table, tipping the glass off the table where it shattered at their feet. 

"I fuckin' knew it you traitorous shit." Charles spat, launching himself at James. The baker took the first punch to the mouth but blocked the second and pushed Charles into the opposite wall. 

"He didn't steal jack-shit from you, Vane, it was his friend and it was a fucking loan. You still think we're in Afghanistan, well news flash asshole you can't go around beating up civilians. You call this a business? You're just a thug in a suit, playing debt-collect for your daddy." James voice was frighteningly calm. The silence that followed echoed, interrupted only by their breathing. James slumped against the cabinet, pressing a hand to his wet lip. It came away bloody. 

"I'm not trying to sabotage anything, I'm trying to move on. You should try and do the same." James finally said. He never wanted this kind of dirty dealings anywhere near the bakery. He couldn't allow his past to ruin the only pure thing in his life. 

"Are you making an threat?" Teach grunted curiously. 

"No, I'm making a suggestion." James retorted coolly then sighed in exasperation, "the guy was scared, Teach, he ran in looking for somewhere to hid from your Pitbull and I obliged. No ulterior motives." 

"You were just being nice..." Teach muttered in disbelief. James pursed his lips but said nothing. "Fine... As someone who was once your friend, I'll let this go. But do not presume our association is over, James, you cannot erase the past so easily. Just ask the Hamiltons." 

With that Teach strode from the room, Charles following behind him with a smug swagger in his gait at getting the last word. The bell above the door jangled tunefully, and James let his body untense. His shoulders sagged, and he leaned heavily on the counter as he tried to compose himself. 

His nose was filled with the sickening scent of blood from his mouth. James turned to the sink turned the tap, splashing his face with warm water. The incident in Afghanistan had lead to the death of six soldiers and dishonourable discharge of five, James among the disgraced and Thomas among the dead. He had come home to find Miranda waiting, kind and forgiving even when he told the truth that the media hadn't- it was his fault Thomas was gone from their lives. With her strength, he found his way back from that dark place. James followed Thomas' words of advice and opened the bakery, changing his name in all records out of shame and the need for a fresh start- and it worked for two years, until Teach had approached him with a lucrative offer. James immediately refused, but Teach was persistent and since then, for the past six months, the shadow of his past loomed, threatening to destroy what he had built. Now though his thoughts swam with John Silver, and James could gladly loose himself in this new feeling that spread warmth through his entire body. He didn't care about Teach's threats and well-woven words, John wouldn't care would he? His eyes were bright and blue, but like the ocean they had a dark and hidden depth James could understand. He sincerely hoped the feeling was mutual as he gathered the shards of glass off the floor. 

-

John Silver was infatuated. He was fucking infatuated with a man who bakes cakes for a living. He sat that the dining table, trying to focus on paper work but all he saw was Flint's smile, that one real smile he gave yesterday plagued him. It had been predatory, yet so tantalising- teeth bared like he was going to eat John alive, but murky green eyes softening the wolfishness. 

"Having trouble, mon Cher?" Max asked, placing a cup of tea at his elbow and eyeing the unfilled paperwork. 

"Don't you 'mon Cher' me, young lady, I'm still pissed. Vane's goon punched me in the nose because of you." John grumbled, tugging his unruly curls out of his face. Max pouted as she sat across from him with her own beverage, she was dressed in a bathrobe and hair curlers but still managed to look stunning. 

"Perhaps, but there's something you're not telling me and technically I still fulfil the role of 'Best Friend' so you're obligated to tell me." Max took a loud slurp of her coffee. 

"When did your English get so good?" John muttered evasively. 

"I've spoken English better than you for the last ten years, but that's besides the point. What aren't you telling me?" Max asked softly. 

"Fine, okay there's... there's a guy." John huffed, trying to hide his smile as Max gasped and clapped her hands together, "stop, stoop! He's, God I don't know... he's odd." 

"Ooo, tall, dark and handsome? just the way you like them!" Max cooed. 

"He's ginger." 

"La bonte..." 

"Shut up. He's very hot and he owns a bakery, we had tea and then... he freaked a little but it wasn't bad. Sore topic or something, he looked like I'd stepped on a kitten... Max, I want to see him again but I don't wanna seem like a creeper." 

"Wait, you mean you haven't jumped his bones already?" Max asked incredulously, "ooo, John, this sounds like a little more than your usual lusty pursuits." He glared at her, but considered her words carefully. It was true, he probably would have fucked the man right there in the kitchen when they met but James was something new, already under his skin and he did not want to ruin it. 

"Possibly." John hummed. 

"Well, I hate to be that friend." Billy Bones appeared from the stairs dressed for the gym, a bag slung over one shoulder, "but you need to finish that paperwork before you even think about seeing this 'very hot' guy again." 

"Eavesdropper..." Living with two other people was already a challenge and it had barely been three weeks. Max kept using his conditioner, and Billy was constantly leaving his sweaty gym clothes in the corridor. Joh quietly added, "but you're right." 

"I know I am. You said you wanted to take on some responsibility and your doing a terrible job so far." Billy slapped him on the back as he passed, "so get the fuck on with it mate." 

John had to admit his "fresh start" at being an adult wasn't going as well as he'd hoped but he couldn't help sticking his finger up at Billy. Most of the crap that rained down on him wasn't even his fault; Max borrowing money from a loan-shit, his stint in LA which ended with him being arrested for prostitution due to a miscommunication (ish), and of course his entire childhood that lead to all of these fuck-ups... John had become unashamedly selfish since then, looking out for just himself had been the safest way to live.  
Now, however, he had a half-set up business with two irritatingly good people relying on him not being a prick for once. Being selfish was easier when he was alone, these days he took misdirected punches and signed his real name on dotted lines. 

Billy left with a casual wave over his shoulder. "How did he find a gym so quickly? I barely know where the local Starbucks is." 

Max sighed, "I'll make you some breakfast, and then you and I are going to get this done." 

-

James stood at the counter, aggressively kneading dough trying to push his anxieties into it. It had been five days since he'd been left on the doorstep of John Sliver's shop with a burning kiss on his cheek, and he hadn't seen the man since. James supposed he shouldn't be surprise, he scared him off. It was probably for the best he thought- there was so much other baggage surrounding James it was good John managed to get away before it went any further. 

James wiped his hand down his apron, "Anne have you seen the-" A tray was pushed onto the counter by his work area. "thank you, Anne." 

"My pleasure." Said a silky voice that definitely wasn't hers. John stood at his side, grinning mischievously. "Hi." 

"Uh, hello." James replied, looking John up and down. He was dressed in a blue bomber jacket with a t-shirt underneath that had 'The Coral' emblazoned across the chest, and tight black skinny jeans tucked into boots. He looked gorgeous. James realised how intently he was staring and glanced away. 

"What happened here?" John asked is fingers brushing over James chin, there was a purple mark spread across his lip and chin thankfully mostly concealed by his beard, but Anne and Jack had still exchanged looks when he'd come in the morning after his conversation with Teach. "That's an impressive bruise." 

"Oh, that's nothing..." James stepped back slightly, "I walked into a cabinet... Why are you here?" 

"Did I do something wrong?" John's asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He sounded so concerned James felt foolish for reacting the way he did. 

"No, I just thought you didn't want to see me again with everything that happened..." James stammered, at a loss. 

John gently placed a hand on James' forearm, rubbing a thumb over freckled skin, "'everything' being a really nice time? Sorry, James, I don't scare easy. I like you, a lot actually, you've got a nice voice and you're quite handsome under the right light-" 

James couldn't help laughing lightly, "stop talking." 

"-I never thought I'd fall for a redhead, mind you, that's a first. Is it true what they say about gingers in bed?" James pressing his callous palm to John's jaw stopped him instantly. 

"I said stop." James whispered, his heart pounding in anticipation. John looked wide-eyed as James shifted forward. They were both smiling comically their lips inches apart, hot breath drawn in harmony when a gasped came from the doorway, causing James to pull away like he'd been stuck with a pin. A beautiful tanned woman with wavy hair and dark eyeliner stood there with Anne just at her shoulder. 

"Oh, merde! I'm sorry!" She cried, but appeared to be trying to hide a grin behind her hand. Anne looked bemused, her nose crinkled and lips quirked up but she was paying more attention to the French woman bouncing giddily. 

"Max you..." John sighed. He turned back to James with an apologetic expression, "this is Max, she's my colleague I told you about? The one that got me this lovely souvenir-" I jabbed a finger accusingly at the cut on his nose "- and interrupted me in the middle of having a pretty steamy moment with a hot baker. You're so not getting a cake now." 

-

John watched Max suspiciously from a table outside of Urca Bakery. She was flirtatiously leaning over the counter and saying something to the redhead- the female one- who looked slightly afraid. John couldn't blame her; Max was a pretty intense flirt. It was still chilly, but the sun was bright in the cloudless sky, John leaned back basking in the warm rays. 

His preferred redhead came outside carrying two blue mugs in one hand and a packet of cigarettes in the other. His hair was tied in a top know, the excess tucked behind his ears. He'd taken off the apron giving John a lovely view of his chest through a tight white shirt as he walked over. Evidence of his baking escapades were smudged on the thighs of his weathered blue jeans, and his trainers were dusted with baking powder. 

"Your friend seems to be taking a liking to Anne." James said as he sat down and pushed a mug towards him. He draw a cigarette from the wrapper and lit it with a clipper. 

"She's a heartbreaker, Anne had better watch out." 

"Oh, Anne's engaged." James said exhaling away from them. His fingers twirled the cigarette more than he actually smoked it. 

John snorted from behind his drink, "'S never stopped her before." James smiled brashly for a moment before taking another drag, "how long have you smoked?" 

"Since I was eighteen I think. I quit for a while, but I have zero willpower. Sorry do you mind?" 

"No, it's fine. I didn't take you for a smoker." John shrugged, James seemed more relaxed so he let it be as much as the habit annoyed him. The baker was leant forward over his mug, his left hand picking at the hem of his opposite sleeve; he looked like a model for some fancy aftershave or overrated brand of clothing. 

"How's the parlor coming along?" James asked, 

"Oh great." John sighed to which eyebrows were raised in question, "no it's... everything going well, we should be ready to open by next week." 

James put the cigarette out in the square tray. "You don't sound happy." 

"It's the first big thing I've done, y'know, I'm nervous that I might fuck it up somehow. Plus Max wants to throw an opening party which guarantees chaos and possibly law enforcement." 

"I felt the same." John looked up from his tea at James who expression was earnest. 

"Really?" 

"When I first brought the place I didn't do anything for three months because I was so nervous. I must have puked at least twice on the day it opened." James chuckled when John made a face, "point is you'll be fine. Max seems nice enough and I think you underestimate yourself." 

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." 

"That's sad." 

John shifted in his seat, the intended self-deprecating joke taken sincerely by James made him self-conscious. "Yeah well, I'm just tired of all the papers and forms. I just want to get to work, I haven't had time to design anything for ages." 

James sat back and smiled. "Do one for me. I mean if you want to, I love your work and I'd like something new maybe on my arm..." John grinned and reached over, pulling James' arm across the table. 

"Here?" He asked excitedly prodding the skin on James' upper arm wondering what would be suitable, maybe something dark that would contrast beautifully with his pale skin. 

"Uh-huh." James glanced around self-consciously. John realised he didn't seem too confident with public touching, he'd reacted the same way when John had shown him his tattoos and they had touched. 

"James I'd be honoured." John gushed. James turned his face down trying to hide his blush, John wanted to taken his hands and tell him not to hide but at that moment the bakery door jangled open and Max stepped out with Anne in tow. James pulled away, hunching back over his mug and eyeing it intently. 

"Well that's three more names to add to the guest list, Cheri!" Max sang joyfully, throwing herself onto John's lap. Anne stood nonchalantly at James' shoulder with her arms crossed, her pose identical to the bakers- side by side, they seemed disconcertingly similar. 

"Would you like to? Come I mean, to the party?" John asked. James' sat back dropping his hands into his lap, and glancing between their spectators, John wished they could be alone again so James didn't have to be so cautious. 

"John... I'd be honoured." James replied. The iteration of his own words and James' bold smile sent a jolt through John. There was a tense moment where the two look at each other, everything around them muted. John traced his eyes over James' face, taking in the laugh lines, the freckles and the statuesque curve of his cheekbones.  
The spell was broken by Max- once again- who hopped to her feet. 

"Now that's settled, you and I need to see a man about a disco ball." Max grinned, offering him her hand. 

"Disco ball." James' repeated incredulously. John slurped the dregs of his tea and stood, ignoring the hand. 

"She's joking." 

"Not she's not." Max muttered through a pout. James laughed tentatively at that. 

"I think it's time for us to go uh-huh, James-" John touched James' shoulder, "-would it be okay for me to come by late? If you're not busy. We can talk tattoo designs." He cursed himself for how apprehensive he sounded. It was pathetic how much he wanted James all to himself. 

"I'd like that." James replied instantly. 

"O-okay, it was lovely to meet you monsieur, and you as well..." Max batted her eyes at Anne, who shifted and ducked her head without saying a word. John sighed heavily knowing that couldn't end well, and judging by James' expression he felt the same. 

"Let's go Cheri." John said, linking arms with Max and pulling her away. "see you later." He murmured to James' softly as he turned away. James' gave a small nod, his smile slight but evident. John couldn't help looking back as they walked away, to his delight James' was still there watching him with the same soft expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could choke on the fluff...  
> As you can see we're taking it slow, I love writing Max!  
> Thank you for the lovely comments I'm enjoying writing :)
> 
> P.S. my tumblr's punk-rockspock.tumblr.com!


	3. Something Entirely New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so it's not that slow-burn-y; i present mild smut!!! Nothing too graphic sorry it's my first time...

John should have realised this would turn into a huge shopping trip, he was with Max after all. They ended up visiting every shop in the mall until John was heavily laden with shopping bags he had to beg Max to let him stop and buy a drink. They sat outside one of those quirky, yet popular, cafés taking up two tables with bags. Max eyed him for several minutes, sipping her Frappachino loudly. John refused to take the bait, and waited for her to final speak up. 

"So... James is cute." 

"Yes." 

"And you're going back tonight." 

"Uh-huh." 

"Second date." 

John huffed and put his tea down heavily. "What are you trying to say Max?" His friend shrugged and swirled her straw through the smoothie. 

"Well, where are you going to take him?" 

"It's not that kind of... he wants me to design him a tattoo." John replied. He had to admit he was excited about seeing James alone, he knew what Max was implying of course, but it wasn't about the sex this time. He wanted to be with James- sex just seemed like an added bonus this time. 

"Is that a euphemism?" Max snorted, and John gave her a withering look, "all I'm saying is, he seems nice- if a tat aloof- and I don't think you should fuck this one up." 

"Wow, okay." John muttered. The words stung a little, like Max was saying he had fucked it up in the past on purpose. 

"Oh please don't get defensive." Max sighed. 

"Why shouldn't I? You basically just told me I'm gaurenteed to ruin this thing. After everything we've been through I thought you'd have a little more faith than that." John felt himself getting more worked up as he spoke, "I mean for fucks sake, I've been the most mature one here since we arrived. Billy's galavanting off to the gym all the fuckin time, like he's any help. And do I even need to bring up this Charles Vane mess? I've been the one doing paperwork, fixing up the shop, meeting a guy who I can actually see a futu..." John trailed off, caught off guard by his own words. Did he really feel this way? It was too much so suddenly, they barely knew each other but he already had puppy eyes for the baker. 

"Who's the one being a dick now." Max hissed, crossing her arms. 

"I... Your right. I'm going, I'll see you tomorrow." John muttered. He stood and picked up the only shopping bags- out of 10- that were his and walked towards the exit. 

"John! For Godsake, don't walk off in a huff! It's raining let me give you a lift." Max called, but John flapped his hand in a dismissive manner and kept going. 

Hard, cold rain stung his face as soon as he stepped outside; it was calming. He hated arguing with Max but sometimes she was selfish... John chuckled- calling someone else selfish was a pretty hypocritical. 

He walked in the rain, enjoying the emptiness of the streets and the warm hazy smell that always came with the it in Nassau. However, after he got halfway to the bakery he realised it had been a mistake. Now he was soaked through, as was his shopping, and his mood was darker than the clouds above. 

"John you're a knob." He sighed to himself, and strode determinedly, his shoes squelching. 

Twenty minutes later, he could hardly see through his drenched curtain of hair but when he made out Urca Bakery his spirits were raised considerably. Especially so, when he saw James standing in the porch, now wearing a leather jacket, a cigarette between his elegant fingers. He was staring into the sky wistfully, until he noticed John approaching and his mouth fell open. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" He called, dropping the cigarette and pulling his jacket over his head and running over. 

"How chivalrous of you." John stammered as James sheltered them both under it and walked him to the thankfully dry porch. 

"How foolish of you, you're so going to get a cold." James scolded as he unlocked the front door and pushing John inside the bakery. The warm interior made John sigh happily as  
he set his bags down and James locked the door behind them. 

"You're dripping all over my floor, come on upstairs and I'll get you something dry to wear." James tutted like a disapproving mother hen, it made John smile. 

"Upstairs?" 

"I live above the shop." James explain, beckoning him. They walked through a door next to the counter that read 'private' and up a small set of stairs. James fiddled with his keys  
nervously, eventually finding the right one and letting them into a small, dark apartment. 

The lights came on and revealed a rather crowded living room, that is to say; crowded with books. Two of the walls were shelved, floor-to-ceiling, with volumes of all shapes and sized upon them. The furthest wall had two large bay windows, with a cosy seat beneath one of them that looked well used. Street lights outside cast everything in an warm orange glow. John couldn't help but smile- the baker was bookish. 

James reappeared from a doorway to his right with a set of clothes and towel. 

"Here, they might be a bit big... you can change in my room." James pointed back to the room he came from, "Do you want some tea?" 

"Thank you, something a little stronger would be good." John said gratefully, his clothes were starting to get uncomfortably clingy. 

James laughed softly, "Whiskey?" 

"Oh yes." John nodded. He stepped into James' bedroom, it was equally quaint as the living room. Filled with books, a television in one corner and a wardrobe by the window. The bed was huge and covered in blankets and quilts. John peeled his sodden clothes away and tucked them on the radiator next to the door, then toweled himself off half-heartedly, he was too tired to make much effort. The clothes were indeed too big- John had to roll the comfortable pajama bottoms up, and he looked tiny in the 'Nassau College' hoodie. 

John walked into the living room again and inspected the closest shelf of books. He ran his fingers over the spines, some were worn and fraying while others were gently creased- all read and all very loved. John was embarrassed he didn't know as many of the titles as he would have liked, but he spotted a few he knew well. He retrieved King Lear from a low shelf and smiled at the dog-eared corners. 

"You like Shakespeare?" James asked from behind him. John turned and smiled, taking the glass of Whiskey from him. 

"I do. It's one of my favourites." John said, pushing it back onto the shelf, "you're quite the collector." 

"Hmm, more an enthusiast. A collector collects, I just read. You won't find an unread book here, I'd never waste my money like that." John smiled to himself at how disapproving James sounded. He tapped his finger against the glass as he moved along the shelf, James stood still and watched him. 

"Oh, thanks for the clothes. I look pretty silly but I was soaked." John said, plucking at the hoodie. 

"You look fine, where did you walk from? You were drenched." James asked, leaning against the shelves. He'd taken off his leather jacket, and was now in a snug blue jumper. 

"Oh, the mall?" 

"Seriously." James interjected in disbelief. 

"Yes, I... Max and I had an argument. Of sorts." John murmured, spying a very beautiful looking hardback copy of The Lost World by Arthur Conan Doyle on a high shelf. 

"Oh, what about? I-if you don't mind me asking." James added quickly. John realised he didn't know what to say; it had been about James. He glanced at the man, who was gazing at him with lovely green eyes, eyebrows quirked in concern. 

"Well, you... us, actually." John admitted. James looks surprised for a second then stepped closer, placing his glass on a shelf. 

"I'm sorry." He said in a soft voice. 

"Don't be." 

"I can't help feeling a little bad if you two fell out because of me." 

"It was... I'm not renowned for being particularly good in relationships. I mess them up rather a lot I'm afraid." John let it spill from his lips so easily, he put the Whiskey down deciding he didn't need to partake in alcohol and reveal more. However he quickly realised James' gaze alone was a catalyst for losing control over his filter. "She said she was worried I would fuck this one up too and I got annoyed with her." 

James had stepped closer again, now at John's side but he stoically refused to meet the bakers gaze, instead attempting to reach the Lost World volume. 

"Why?" James asked quietly. John fingers brushed against the book but a further reach passed his and took the book down, James had stepped behind him and John turned to be within inches of the mans body. James held the book out and John took it. 

"Because. I don't want to fuck this up, I want this to-to work. You're something entirely new James, and it's pretty fucking scary. It's a new feeling." John stammered, pressing a hand against James chest and feeling his heartbeat. James' hands pressed against either side of his face, pushing his chin up so their eyes met. John felt his stomach flip as James' fingers stroked through his damp hair. 

"I feel the same." James murmured. There was a brief moment where they stared at each other, James' fingers moving gently through John's hair and moving to his jaw. John was pulled into a soft, slow kiss. Their lips slide together, pushing and pulling like waves. James' lips were strong but soft, and when John felt his tongue part his lips demandingly the book slipped from his fingers and he groaned. James suddenly pushed John into the shelf, his hand grabbing the shelf by John's head and the other pulling him closer. John clutched at James' shirt, tugging at the material and gasping as James pressed a thigh between his legs. 

"James." He murmured shakily, against the mans lips. He tugged at James' belt, fumbling until he could tug it undone and slide his hand into the jeans and grasp James' cock hard. James gasp and huffed, thrusting into John's grip. 

"Jesus Christ." James whispered, kissing John deeply as he stroked him. John moaned as James grasped his hips, his fingers a bruising grip against his bones. He couldn't help smiling as the baker pressed their foreheads together, his expression unguarded and desperate. John couldn't believe how hard he was from just this, watching James fall apart as he stroked him languidly. He twisted his fingers slightly, brushing his thumb over the leaking head of his cock and listening to James' shuddering breath. It only took James a few more seconds of toturously slow strokes before he came over John's hand, pressing against him and burying his face in the man's neck, muffling the debauched groan.

They stood frozen for a moment, until James stepped back and John pulled his hand away. He ran a come over thumb over his bottom lip and ran his tongue over it, James' eyes hypnotised by the action and blow wide. He glanced down, seeing John was still hard and quickly sank to his knees while holding John's gaze. 

"Y-you don't have t-" John said, gripping the shelf as James' pulled the material down, teasingly slow. James didn't answer, his attention entirely focused on John's leaking erection inches from his lips. Instead, the man moved his lips to brush over the tattoo on John's thigh- a prowling tiger- his tongue tracing the outline. How he'd guess John was turned on by this was a mystery, but John didn't care he threw his head back and revelled in the gentle foreplay. 

James finally moved his lips over the head of John's cock, taking it into his mouth and sucking lightly. 

"Oh fuck, James." He whimpered, pushing his hips forward slightly and whined as James gripped the top of his thighs to hold him still. James took him in slowly, an inch at a time, pulling more incoherent, wanton noises from John's lips until he was entirely held in the velvety heat of the man's mouth. John knew he couldn't last long as James' slowly moved back and forth, his tongue dragging and swirling over the tip. He gripped James' hair, maintaining the pace so he could extend the beatific moment but before long he was crying out and jerking against James' grip, his hand tightening in the soft ginger hair. James drank him in, every drop until John was limp and sensitive and barely standing against the bookshelf. 

"Your talents are wasted as a baker." John panted as James stood wiping his mouth. They both grinned. 

"You haven't tried my crème burlee yet." He murmured, John laughed and tucked himself back into the pajamas. James grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, "I'm definitely  
showering, you got my own come in my hair. Would you like something to eat?" 

"Honestly I'm starving." John beamed. 

"Okay, uh, gimme a coupla minutes." James said, going back into his room but not before glancing at John once more and smiling widely, the same smile that made John's heart race on their first 'date' and still did. 

John didn't move for several minutes, listening to James moved around and the shower come on. He finally pushed himself off the shelf and went into the kitchen, which was surprisingly small for someone who cooks for a living. He turned the kettle on, and inspected the shelves for a mug and teabags which he eventually found. By the time the water boiled, James appeared in fresh underwear and a tee, his hair damp and loose which John hadn't seen before. 

"I like your hair down." He said, stirring his tea and watching James turn on a ring and take a pan off the shelf. 

"Hmm, it gets in the way." James replied, pulling at the back and letting some droplets of water fall onto his shirt. John stepped over and tucked the loose strands behind his ear, gaining his attention. 

"You're gorgeous." John murmured, loving the way James' skin turned bright pink and he glanced away. He didn't seem used to being praised like this and John was determined to change that. 

"You're not so bad." James replied, "under the right light." John huffed and tugged James into a kiss. 

"Now he's a funny guy." John tutted, moving away so James could get on. The baker stood in a daze for a second, then turned back to his stove. They stood in comfortable silence as John drank his tea and watched James make an omelette. James sliced it in half, plated it for John, and they sat at the counter. The omelette was amazing, and John groaned  
appreciatively. 

"You really can cook damn." He said through a mouthful, and ate the rest greedily. James looked smug as he took the plates and placed them in the sink. The baker turned and chewed his lip for a moment before asking. 

"Will you stay?" 

"If you'll have me." John replied softly. James stepped over and held John's head between his hands like before, tilting his face up to kiss him chastely in reply. 

John let James take his hand and guide him into the bedroom, where he shut the door and drew the curtains. John stood awkwardly by the bed watching him, lost in thought. The afterglow was intoxicating, John couldn't help running a hand over his thigh where James had traced his tongue. He hadn't expected that, or any of it so soon, not that he was complaining but it felt... dream like. James noticed him smiling contently as he pulled back the covers. 

"What?" 

"I can't help but wonder... you've seen virtually all my tattoos and you still haven't shown me yours." John replied, his smile mischievous. James huffed as he sat on the bed, hands resting on his thigh. He seemed to take a moment of contemplation, then beckoned him over. 

"Come here." 

John crawled onto the bed and onto James' lap, straddling him and tracing his fingers through James' hair again. James shut his eyes for a moment, his lip curled up in pleasure then he took one of John's hand and guided in down his chest to his hip. There, he pushed the band of his pants down slightly, to reveal a small cursively written sentence: know no shame. 

"Does it mean something?" John murmured running his thumb over it. 

"A sentiment I shared with some old friends." James almost looked sad, his eyes glazed as if lost in a memory. John took his hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, drawing James back to him. 

"It's sweet." John smiled. James huffed and shifted, making John slip off his lap. John lay on his stomach at James' side, propping himself up on his elbows to watch the baker think. 

"I suppose... you said virtually all? Do you have more tattoos?" James asked laying back. 

"On my shoulder and calf." John hummed, his eyelids drooping. Finally resting on a soft foam surface had made the last of his will drain from his body and left him warm and fluid. 

James sat up and pushed his rough fingers under the hem of the hoodie, "may I?" He asked and John hummed in consent, pressing his head onto folded arms. James pushed the material up John's back. Just under his left shoulder blade was an intricate design John had made with the assistance of Billy- one he was particularly proud of. 

The scene was of two figures, wrestling up the pole on which a torn and burnt English flag waved. The right figure was a sailor, his bare arms and back strained to reach for the flag. The left was a skeleton, blackened and reaching up too. Billy insisted it must be some sort of symbolism for conflict between the soldier and the rebel within John, but truthfully it was just a strange dream he'd had as a child. 

"This is incredible." James whispered, his fingers probed the rendering. John smiled over his shoulder, smugness in his chest at how the baker seemed completely enthralled in observing the image. Their eyes met and James smiled wolfishly, as he leaned down and brushed his lips over the ink. John took a sharp intake of breath, and James grinned against his skin and nipped at the soft flesh. 

"You really do have a bit of a kink." He chuckled. 

"Perhaps." John replied breathlessly. James sat back up to which John made a small noise of protest at the loss of contact. The baker pulled the hoodie back down and lay beside John, pulling him to his chest. 

"I'm going to exploit it to the nth degree I promise. Now sleep." James muttered in his ear, his hand tucking into the hoodies hem and rubbing the taut skin of John's stomach. John resisted the temptation for a moment, listening to James' breathing. But the rhythmic sound of it and the rain against the window outside lulled him into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed this installment, I'm not going to do too many more chapters (maybe 2?? 3?) because ive got college soon and i dont want to leave yall hanging!  
> I might even try writing some more mod-au if this goes well... x


	4. The Bones of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear I am now one of those writers I used to get annoyed with for never updating consistently! As an apology I included unplanned smut for your reading pleasure (hopefully...)  
> I'm very sorry, thank u for sticking with me x

He woke before John, opening his eyes with the feeling of gentle puffs of breath of his cheek and the perfectly lovely view of his tattoo artist; features unperturbed by a clever mind. James watched him for a moment with an unfamiliar sense of contentment. A cold foot poked his calf and John's face shifted into wakefulness, a sleepy smile appearing. 

"Are you watching me sleep? How romantic." The man croaked. His eyes fluttered open, gazing at James blearily. 

"Perhaps." James murmured, reaching out and brush the curls behind his ear. Being here, at home and where all worries about other people's perceptions could drained away, James felt confident and comfortable in his actions. John seemed to appreciate this, he shifted forward and hummed contently as James kept brushing his fingers against his scalp, pulling the hair slightly. Their kiss was languid, dipping in to taste one and other until it became something heated and demanding. John pushed James onto his back and straddled the bakers hips, hands exploring his chest leisurely as they kissed. 

John broke away breathlessly, "when do you start work?" 

"We've got time." 

"Best use it wisely." They met in the middle desperately. James shifted his hands onto John's backside, squeezing then pulling the tracksuits down to the bend of his knee. He tentatively pulled at his buttock and pressed a finger to his hole causing John to gasp against his lips. 

"Do you have supplies? I want to ride you." James' cock jumped against his pants and he scrambled above his head to the bedside table, opening the draw and presenting lube and a condom. John looked so blissfully relieved, he couldn't help smirking. 

"Clothes." 

They quickly discarded of them, James able to finally see the gorgeously taut muscles of John's chest, sparsely haired and golden. He reached out and ran his hand from collarbone to cock, cupping the latter and tugging. John groaned and threw his head back, revealing a graceful neck James wanted mark with bruises as his own. 

"Come on." John moaned, moving up his chest slightly so James could reach more easily. 

James tutted, "Demanding." And tugged John's lips to his with a hand on his neck. His bite at the swollen bottom lip, creating more wanton noises to pour from John's mouth. 

Finally he squeezed the liquid onto his fingers, warming it before pressing them again to John's hole. He slowly, achingly worked John open, one finger at a time. Their eyes never left each other except when he pressed a third finger in and the sensation became so intense, John's eyes fluttered close and his breath more like gasps. 

"Oh God, James p-please." 

The baker twisted and spread his fingers, brushing of the sweet spot in John. "Please what?" John whimpered, his hands clutching the sheets by James head. 

"I want your cock inside me right now, or so-help-me-God..." 

James smiled wickedly and pulled his fingers away making John gasp again. As John took a moment's reprieve from lascivious sensation, James rolled the condom onto his aching cock and worked it with more lube. 

"You okay?" James murmured to the gorgeous man bent over him, curling hanging over face and tickling his collarbone. He pressed a hand to John's thigh and rubbed the feverish skin until John looked up, his face flushed but lips smiling, beautifully crooked. 

"More than." Came the reply, and John sat up and shifted back. He slowly wrapped his fingers around James' cock- who had to anchor his hands on John's thighs for fear of bucking his hips pre-emptively. The restraint was worth it as John slowly pressed James inside him, his thighs quivering as he toke him in agonisingly slow. 

John's head was thrown back again, his curls falling about his shoulders in ringlets. His neck and chest glistened with sweat, he looked like some kind of Adonis. James felt his own heart pound and breath quicken, he realised he was gripping John's thighs so tightly they left red marks around the tattoo. 

When James was wholly inside his, base to tip, John's head fell forward and his eyes opened dazedly. His lips were wet and swollen as they spread into a smile, James couldn't help return. John shifted, pressing his hips down further and they both gasped. 

John began to move his hips, pressing down and up an inch. "Oh." Came a soft, comically innocent utterance from John when James lube smeared hand wrapped around his cock and jerked in rhythm to John's movements. They moved together; waves to a shore, growing in pace and intensity. He clutched one hand to James thigh and he moved a little faster, sending fantastic jolts through James' cock and body. John's other hand was tangled in his own hair, the look was so debauched, so pornographic, James' knew at that moment he was ruined for anyone else but this man- and that was absolutely fine. 

James became overwhelmed with something and leaned up on his elbow, grasping the back of John's neck and pulling him into a kiss. The angel was awkward, but the sentiment not lost on John who returned the messy, wet kiss enthusiastically. 

"James." John panted, his fingers gripping at the bakers shoulders, he pants became noisy whimpers and then open moans of pleasure until his whole body tense around James and John's come stained their chests accompanied by his cry. James took just a few trembling thrusts, the simmering heat coiled in his gut suddenly boiled over and James came hard.  
James groaned, falling back against the sheets and wiping a hand over his hot neck and damp hair. John moved and let his softening cock slip out wettly before collapsing beside the baker, an arm thrown over his chest. Come cooled against sweaty skin as they lay together catching their breath. 

He felt the tattoo artist fingers draw circles on his abdomen, the pattern repeating the shape of an infinity sign. James turned John's face to him, nose to nose, the fingers stopped. He kissed him in a way that draws one breath away, and turns the axis beneath your feet. In every subtle brush of lips and drag of teeth across them, James tried to show his lover everything he could say out loud. 'I want you more than words', 'I've never felt like this before', 'I'm terrified and excited'... 

his thoughts halted the kiss and John opened his deep blue eyes to look at the baker. Under the scrutinous gaze, James cast his own down hoping to hide his blatant display of  
emotions. 

"You're really something else." John murmured. 

James couldn't think of a word to say so settled for, "uh, shower" and rolled out bed cursing his lack of coherence. He heard John laugh quietly as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, adjusting the setting to a bit below boiling. 

Under the spray, he closed his eyes and washed the come and sweat from his body. He felt a hand brush his shoulder as John appeared behind him. 

"Mind if I join, lover." 

James turned to face him, without his combats John was almost an inch shorter to his amusement. He traced his hands over John's body, worshiping the curve of his shoulder and dips of his hip. John's eyes closed and he stood still letting James explore him. The baker pressed a kiss to his lips and then his temple, moving to his neck. He pulled John further under the jet and drew his finger through John's hair, dampening it until the curls disappeared. 

John craned his neck to access James mouth but the baker pulled back slightly, teasingly. John pouted. "You sir, are quite the provocateur." 

"Hmm, so I've been told." 

As their lips touched, a irritating dinging could be heard; James' alarm. He groaned, realising that was the reminder for him to start the morning pastries. 

"I have to-" 

"Duty calls." 

"Unfortunately." James swapped their places and grabbed a towel from the rack. He paused at the door, taking in the glorious sight of John naked and wet in his shower,  
cataloging it for later, "I-I'm not kicking you out. Take you time, I just have to... yeah." He quickly left before he made a total fool of himself. 

-

John felt giddy. He basked in the spray of hot water, enjoying the subtle ache in his arse and thighs. Through the door he heard James thumping about, probably trying to dress and brew tea at the same time by the sounds of it. The giddiness came from the lovely sensation buzzing through his body, but also James telling him to take his time. No rush. He wanted him to stay.  
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, he checked his clothes and found them completely dry and folded on the bed. He wandered into the kitchen, trousers loose at his hips and found a tea ready on the counter- James was definitely a secret mother-hen John decided. He sipped it unhurriedly, staring out the small window above the stove. 

Outside the sun was feebly peeking through the clouds, yesterday's rain ran in rivers by the pavement where early commutors walked in zombie-like fashion, their feet taking them where they needed to go. John realised his phone was still in his back pocket and was delighted to find the rain and lack of charge hadn't affected it. His stomach dropped slightly, however, when he saw the several apologetic texts from Max and one from Billy scolding him for not replying to Max who was "crying like a fuckin child man idk how to deal w this". Proceeding them was a long list of missed calls. John bit his lip and sighed. 

The bakery was dark, blinds still drawn with thin strips of light cast across the floor. A enticing scent wafted from the kitchen as John came down the stairs; baking bread. The soft sound of 'The Bones of You' also drifted, John followed the noise and from the doorway found James hunched over a tray of fresh cupcakes, piping their tops with candyfloss-pink icing. He was dressed in black jeans and a plain t-shirt, an apron wrapped at his hips. John smiled when he realised the baker was humming in tune to the music. 

"Excellent view." 

James glanced over his shoulder and gave a disapproving arch of an eyebrow. John laughed and moved to him, pressing himself to the man's spine and feeling him press back. He wrapped his arms around James' waist and kissed his neck. 

"I have to go." 

"Oh." 

He secretly pleased by how disappointed James sounded but he quickly reassured him. "No, no it's not like... Max and Billy have been calling and texting loads. I can hardly leave them alone for an hour, let alone an entire night! I honestly didn't think I'd have two children before 30 but here I am." James snorted and twisted around, fitting John snugly  
between his thighs and holding him there possessively. 

"I understand. Anne and Jack are like teenagers, especially when they fall out. Jack is the most incredible strop." James sounded entirely sincere but John laughed anyway. 

"Ah the single parent life..." 

They both smiled and James cupped his cheek and kissed it from his lips chastely. It felt so innocent and odd after the debauchary of the last few hours. 

"Here." John pulled a scrap of paper he'd stolen off the corner of a notepad in the kitchen. On it was scrawled his mobile number. "In case I get caught in the rain again and need  
you to rescue me." 

"I'm honoured..." 

"You should be! Only a handful of people are privileged enough to have those digits... mostly because I really don't know how to use phones." John pecked his cheek, "I really must go now though." 

"I'll text you." James called. 

John turned as he left and replied, "so modern." Then winked and left the shop with a grin on his face. Everything felt brighter even in the dull, damp streets of upper Nassau where the building became tall and terrace, blocking the sun from view. He made his way home quickly, tugging the jacket close as the chill still stung his bare skin. 

He stepped up to the shop door and realised with a jolt of shock it was ajar, and chips of wood and paint were scattered around his feet. The handle and lock were bent like they'd been hit with something. John's heart pounded as he pushed it open, carefully stepping into the foyer. 

Inside the room had been tipped; the workbench was upside down and new furniture was strewn across the floor. Tool boxes and the cart of tattoo equipment were on their side  
their contents scattered among cans and paper. John moved into the center of the room his body rigid with shock. Across the back wall a paint can had been lobbed, a less artful Pollock now upon it. John realised there were crudely written letter in it, probably marked by fingers: 

FUCKING THIEF 

"Max! Billy!" He cried shakily. He heard movement above him, and feet on the stairs. Max appeared her face tear stained and distraught. "Oh Max babe." John hugged her desperately, squeezing her to his chest like a mother with a lost child. Max clung to him, burying her face in his shirt. 

"You wanker." Billy growled as he came down the stairs, he looked pale but as grumpy as ever. 

"What happened?" John asked shakily, an inkling already in his mind.  
"Charles fucking Vane." Max hiccuped. Of fucking course. 

"That piece of shit. I'm sorry I didn't pick up I was... busy." 

Max perked up for a moment. "Ooh did you sleep with James? Was he good?" 

"He was amazing, Max, I swear his-" 

"Okay!" Billy interjected a look of distress on his face, "I don't want to know." 

"I'm sorry Max." John sobered when he remembered his surroundings. 

"It's okay, Cheri." She murmured, still clinging to his side as John looked around, "Billy and I were out at Eleanor's for 70's night. When we came home it was like this..." 

"He still thinks you stole the money." Billy picked up the toolbox and the lid proceeded to unhinge and the box fell back to the floor. Billy threw the lid back down angrily. 

"I didn't steal a fucking thing! I-" John sighed, "neither of us did." 

"I'm so sorry, John, it's my fault." Max whispered, her voice timid. A wave of protectiveness came over John and he squeezed her shoulder. 

"No you didn't know this would happen." John insisted, "I guess the openings going to be delayed for a couple of weeks, we'll have to repaint and buy new tools and furniture." 

"That's the thing, they haven't broken any of it they just... made a mess." Billy shrugged then kicked the metal pieces at his feet, "'cept for this of fucking course. Dicks."

"The thing was falling apart anyway, Billy." Max mutter.

"Doesn't make sense..." 

John shook his head, they needed to fix this soon- the new start was already coming to familiar end. They cleared up as much as they could, gathering the things back into their proper place. It was a mournful silence, though there was nothing to mourn for. Perhaps it was feeling, that such a violation had occurred they'd lost some grain of security or maybe their rose tinted glasses had finally been broken and they were seeing the truth; Nassau was no different from any other place before. 

A few hours later, Billy and John stood before the paint splattered wall in consideration while Max went to make drinks. 

"Could you do something with this?" 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know... it looks like waves, maybe something sea themed?" 

"This isn't a nursery, Billy." 

"What about the design on your shoulder? We could recreate that." 

"Self promotion much..." 

Billy sighed in exasperation. John was just in a techy mood, it was actually a good idea. Max brought down three mugs of tea and gave one to the boys, standing beside them. 

"We could just add a shit load more colours, make a Pollock." She suggested. 

"That's exactly what I thought it looked like." 

"Me too." 

They collectively sipped their drinks. 

\- 

James sighed as he came out of the shower, he'd had three in the last 24 hours and felt prune-like. The day had gone slowly, Anne was still pissed at him and Jack was completely clueless which made her more angry. She'd burnt a tray of rolls and lobbed them on the floor, admittedly in an attempt to get them in the bin but still it had made quite the bang and a couple of customers had left. He'd tried to catch her before she left but she shrugged him off. The shower had helped cool his mood and as he filled the washing machine he texted his new contact: 

'I want to take you out.'

He quickly added:

'It's James.'

John replied a few minutes later.

'What was that? you want to take me? ;)'

He sighed, though he did blush too. Obviously John used emojis.

'Perhaps'

'Call me?'

The tone barely sounded from three seconds before it was picked up and John's voice filled his ear, sending a kind of relief through James.  


"Hello, lover." It was playful but he sounded tired.

"Are you okay?"

"All the better hearing from you..." John sighed. "The shop was broken into last night."

"Oh God, is everyone okay?" James felt guilty when he remembered John mentioning the missed calls.

"Yes, Max is a bit shaken and Billy's being a big boy and hiding his feeling." James heard a muffled 'fuck off' in the background.

"How are you?"

"Honestly, I'm angry. They can't keep doing this."

"Wait 'they'? You know who did it?"

"Charles Vane."

James felt a stormy, furious feeling cloud his thoughts. That fucker. He gripped the counter with white knuckles. "How did you know?"

"Well, 'fucking thief' written on the wall made it pretty clear."

"John I... I can help, I'll talk to him. I know his father-"

"Don't James, I don't want other people fighting my battles. This was a fresh start and I need to take responsibilities and deal with things myself." John's voice was insistent.

"You didn't do anything." James grumbled.

"Indeed but that doesn't stop Vane from thinking I did. I'm going to ask my friend Eleanor to set something up tomorrow. She knows him and he'll listen to her, I'll sit him down and explain... He has to listen to me."

James opened his mouth to ask how John knew the Guthrie's but then thought better of it. The Guthrie's knew everyone, and made sure of it, especially business ventures- John's being a prime example.

"It doesn't seem safe."

"He's already punched me in the face and ruined my shop, what's the worst that could happen?"

"Famous last words." James mumbled. John laughed and sighed.

"It'll be okay. Thank you for worrying, its sweet."

James blushed again. "You must stop calling me that."

"Never... Look I'm going to bed, it's been a rather stressful day." His voice lowered. "It started very well though."

"Good night John." He replied through a smirk.

"Nighty, night."

The line went dead and James put his phone the counter, tapping the screen idly. There was a dark sense of foreboding looming over the warmth of John's presence in his life, as if it was about to be replaced by something much less hopeful and pure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bones of You is a song by Elbow, which I love dearly (the whole album is great 'seldom scene kid' i rec it)  
> -  
> "what's the worst that could happen" Oh, John poor child...  
> So it's getting a lil more plott-y, more plot next chapter less fluff....  
> hope you liked it, feedback welcome! x


	5. Left for the Crows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silver POV >> Flint POV
> 
> WARNING: angst ahead! :((

Nassau was an average sized city, known for it's tourism and excellent waterfront. On-season, the city was crowded and hot, full of fat and sweaty tourists- during this time there were few places a permanent resident could go without being harassed by such people for advice about restaurants or directions. The Guthrie's bar The Pirates Tale, owned by Robert and run by his heiress Eleanor, was a safe haven from such aggravation. This was mainly due to it being within the 'Men of War' territory- a crew of bikers headed by Charles Vane. Vane was the son of a business man with too much money of his hands, and an eye for pretty blonde women who could kick his ass- or that's how Billy put it. This made The Pirates Tale untouched by tourist hands, too afraid of the legend to step anywhere near it; and the perfect place for Nassau folk. 

On their second day in Nassau, Max had decided they should take a break and they ended up at the crowded bar and were almost thrown out because no one seen them before. However, Eleanor Gunthrie had recognised Max from the estate agent (also owned by Robert Guthrie) when she was signing the lease and vouched for them and provided drinks. Since then, it had been a regular spot for the three and Eleanor had become a friend so-to-speak. 

It was here John found himself at half ten in the morning, waiting at the bar while Mr. Scot fetched Eleanor from her upstairs apartment. He carefully went over what he planned to say, but also wonder why everyone seemed to live above their businesses in Nassau. His thoughts were disrupted by Eleanor arguing loudly with Mr. Scot as he crossed the Mezzanine and trotted down the stairs in slippers. 

"And tell that wall-eyed prick if he tried to sell me that knock of shit again, I'll cut his nuts off and feed them to the next supplier with a nice bottle of Johnnie Walker." She growled. 

Mr. Scot was stifling a proud smile, "or words to that effect?" 

"I suppose so, wouldn't want to hurt his feelings... Well if it isn't Long John!" Eleanor called, hugging him briefly and walking around the bar. "What can I do for you?" 

"Good morning Eleanor, I'm afraid to say we had a break in last night." 

"Shit, really? Everyone alright?" John knew she was really asking 'is Max alright', they'd grown quiet close from what John had gathered- spending several nights here on and off. 

"Yes we're all fine, but I suspect the culprit is Charles Vane." 

Eleanor's hand hovered over the bottle she was reaching for briefly. "I see." she said, changing her mind and taking down the top shelf vodka. A neon blue shot glass was slide to John and filled with the sour brew. "So this was last night?" 

"No the night before... why?" 

"Oh well..." 

John eyed her, reading the mixture of guilt and annoyance on her brow. "Eleanor." 

"He came here that night, I wasn't expecting him to of course, so Max and I were-" 

"Oh you're shitting me? This is about that?" John groaned. 

"-And he went batshit and ran off, apparently to trash your shop." 

"Fu-ck-ing hell." John annunciated heavily, pressing his palms against his eyes. Eleanor took her shot, then took his too. "Why didn't Max say anything?" 

Eleanor blushed, "she couldn't see the door from where she was, if you get me." 

"Ack! Eleanor, Jesus, she's like a sister to me I don't need that imagery." John cursed, "well I guess I can't get you to be the middle man can I? Shit." 

"John I'm so sorry, he's a nutcase sometimes but he's basically harmless!" 

He glared at her in disbelief, "he punched me in the face." 

"Oh yes but... that was... I need a drink." 

"You just had two for the both of us." 

"I need another one... I'll talk to him for you, he'll be back tonight I guarantee it. Madman can't stay away for long." 

"I just need this shit to stop before the shop opens, Silver Ink doesn't need this kind of bollocks getting in the way." John mumbled irritably. His phone buzzed and he saw James had texted. 

'Can I see you?' 

He smiled; no equivocation, straight to the point. He couldn't deny he found it adorable, a word probably infrequently applied to James Flint. 

"Ooo, booty call?" Eleanor cooed. 

John snorted, "no booty calls, I'm a kept man." 

"What? Who got your testicles from Billy?" John glared at her and she smiled sweetly. 

"You're hilarious. His name is James, he has a bakery on the edge of town." 

Eleanor stared at him, her face slack with shock. "Flint?" 

He blinked in surprise, "ye-es. You know him?" 

Her face suddenly changed into something neutral, as if John were a shitty customer who she had to be pleasant too because he had deep pockets. "Oh yeah well everyone knows everyone in this goddamn town, John, you'll see. Just... be careful. You've gotta pick and choose your friends carefully in this town." 

John stomach churned, "is there something you're not telling me, Eleanor?" 

"Some things are best left in the past, now piss off I have to clean this shithole up." Eleanor waved her hand at his dismissively and although his gut feeling protested, John turned and left. 

Outside he breathed the fresh air in, even in the center of town you could taste the ocean salt- John wasn't a seafaring man but he was already rather fond of the port town. He took out his phone as he walked towards the sea-front. 

'Sound good :) Come to sea-front? By Hornigold Harbour?' 

The reply came a few minutes later: 

'Cant get there. Come to Paradise Beach?' 

John frowned, Hornigold's was a nice piece of the seafront whereas Paradise Beach- ironically named- was mostly rocks and concrete sea breaks with a small patch of pebbled sand. It was the least aesthetic although closest part of the beach to the bakery. He found James' reluctance to stray far from home... odd. Not that he hadn't seen more peculiar, his housemate at University- Muldoon- refused to leave the dorm for weeks on end until he disappeared, dropping out of Uni altogether. He had anxiety or something of the sort, perhaps it was the case with James too. 

He reached Paradise beach and hopped over the concrete tide-breaker, removing his shoes and sock, and sat on the sand (more pebbles that that) pushing his toes into the silt. The damn, gritty texture was pleasant even in the chilly midday air. He leaned back on his elbows and listened to the waves lapping lazily several feet away, the gulls cawing overhead and the scent of salt and wet rock. 

The stony sand crunched by his side, and John squinted up at the dark figure, haloed by the afternoon sun and highlighting the redness of his hair. John smiled at him and patted the sand to his right. "Hello, lover." John said silkily. 

"Hello." James took the offer and sat heavily his leg brushing John's from bent knee to hip. John, feeling bold, let his leg fall against James' resting there and to his disappointment the baker drew anyway slightly. 

"How has your morning been?" John asked, from this angle James' jawline was caught beautifully by the light, the freckles on his arms and neck were golden. 

"Alright." James murmured, his hands drew in the sand; digging horizontal lines, the sweeping over them to smooth the sand again. 

"Mmm, that good?" 

"Sorry I..." James huffed, shaking his head. John sat up and nudged the man's shoulder with his own, his baker adimently avoided his eye, his entire body was tense as if poised to leap up and run away at a moments notice. 

"Where are you?" John asked softly against the pale skin of his bicep. He felt him shiver longingly but remain stock still. 

"I'm concerned that... my involvement with you... with recent events, it could be." James hesitant, "a bad idea." 

John felt everything tilt slightly, his body pulling away from James. The chill in the air suddenly felt more icy than ever. "I don't understand." James' face stay turned down, occupied by his hands now squeezing the sand into piles. 

"I, like you, once desired a fresh start. I however, did not want to leave my home- Nassau. But the things I did... what I have done, could not be forgiven by certain parties. I was permitted to stay, out of respect for the service I did in the Navy alongside Teach and T-Thomas. I was allowed to stay on the edge of town, not to trespass onto the territory of those parties." James stopped apprehensively meeting John's gaze. John was spinning, his head processing the story a mile-a-minute, that's why he couldn't go to Hornigolds? That's why they didn't go further into town when they first met? Because of 'territories'? What kind of town was this? 

James looked sad, he had made himself vulnerable, and fear resided behind that sadness in his eyes. "One of those parties was the Men of War- Charles Vane and his father, Edward Teach." 

"What are you saying?" John whispered. 

"If he were to discover we were... together, it could harm your prospects in Nassau- ruin your reputation and career. You're already in his bad books and to pile on with this?" James stood suddenly, his hands balled into fists, "I can't let you do that to yourself, or to your friends." 

"My career." John voice was hoarse, he swallowed the lump in his throat and scrambled to his feet, "I don't care about those things, not if it means leaving you. There's something between us, I won't give this up so easily." 

"I've already seen someone I love give up so much just to be with me, I watched them die John." James said firmly, eyes focused on the horizon. 

"You mean Thomas?" James' look alone answered his question. "I'm not him, I'm not giving anything up! I never cared about a career or reputation, I just want to be free of my past and this is where I found it- you don't care about my past why should I care about yours? Don’t be a fucking martyr, James, it doesn't suit you." 

"You don't know a thing about me." James sounded so stormy, so cruel, John shrank back, "I've done and see what you cannot understand so don't tell me what to do. I can't just run away from my past, it's not that simple. This is my decision, John, and I choose to-" 

"To what?" John hissed, "to be alone because you can't get over some bullshit? To suffer for the sake of suffering? You're a coward, James, a fucking fool. Don't hide behind your past just because you're too scare of this, of us." 

They stood staring into each other, waiting for something to happen. John couldn't comprehend this, they had barely started and now it was crashing down over his head all because of Charles Vane? It was a humourless twist of fate that Vane brought them together, and was now breaking them apart. 

"You can't do this." John finally whispered more brokenly than he would've liked, "you can't let them win." 

"It's not a game. There are no winners or losers in this." James stepped back, "this was always going to catch up with us, it was an inevitability. Better now that later." 

"Nothing's inevitable, you're doing this. Not someone else." John wasn't a crier but he felt the prick of tears in his eyes, and knew he couldn't let James see that. He picked up his shoes and walked away resisting the urge to look back as he crossed the road and entered the cobbled streets of Nassau. The stones hurt his feet but he couldn't stop, for fear of falling down and never getting up again. 

Nassau suddenly felt so much colder and ghost-like, John heard James' words over and over, felt them reverberate from the tall brick houses around him. He hated him for giving up so easily to a brute with no brain, he loved him for so selflessly giving up their relationship for John yet hated him even more for not seeing it was incredibly selfish. There time together had been less than fleeting, but John felt as if he had been split open and left for the crows. 

-

It felt like a dream. James knew it wasn't but his feet felt heavy and his heart even moreso. He stood in the sand for half an hour, staring after John even when he had turned the corner. It had been so easy to say the words he had rehearsed so meticulously last night, so easy to hurt John but now he could barely compel his feet to guide him back home.  
After their call he had thought it through over, again and again. Charles Vane was dangerously underestimated by everyone around him, but James knew what he was capable of when let off the leash. He couldn't let John get hurt by being with James. If they'd grown closer, the relationship deeper, it would be too painful. Do it now, James had thought, when there's still time before you're in- 

-James opened the door heavily, stepping into the warmth and the buzz of customers taking lunch. He felt angry, that people could be enjoying themselves while he suffers.  
He blindly stumbled to his door, ignoring Anne and Jack at the counter, and took the stair with leaden feet. His apartment was dark and he left it so, going straight to his bedroom. There, he let his barriers fall. No tears came, he never cried not since Thomas died not even before then, he just dropped his façade of stoicism, his shoulders drooped and slide to the floor, loosing the will to stand. There in the dark he sat against the bed knees to his chest, he looked like a child; vulnerable and weak.  
There had been his dream, one he thought died with Thomas but was alive and flourishing within John. Every touch, every word had seen hope bloom in James' dim future. Such a dark place shouldn't let flowers grow, but even the scholarly baker had forgotten the Oenothera biennis and the Ipomoea- flowers that bloom in the blackest of nights. John was a glorious flora James had torn out, roots and all. 

He sat until his body ached and his head lolled with sleep against his drawn up knees. He was sure he heard someone at the door, possibly Jack maybe even Anne. He dreamt of pigments of purple and silver, feather-light touches on his skin. He saw blue eyes and soft hair, and the dream turned to a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, Flint is such a drama queen... 
> 
> I had to throw a bit of angst in there, but I swear it will be resolved (eventually)...  
> Can't keep these two apart for long x
> 
> p.s. I am no master at making coherent plots so sorry if it's muddled and whatnot, thank you for sticking with me :)


	6. Butterfly Plasters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooly shit, im sorry for the lateness- just had my first exams!
> 
> any-hoo, it's pretty fluffy, I don't do angst well and I couldn't keep them apart for long!
> 
> Enjoy :) 
> 
> p.s. little POV change to Eleanor!

John was not the best at break-ups. He hadn't been through many, but when it did happen- no matter who the break-up-er or break-up-ee was; John wouldn't handle it well. This time, John lay on his bed staring at the ceiling listening to something soppy. Classic teenager-sulk mode, Max had mumbled when she'd checked on him with a cup of tea. John didn't care, he wanted to sulk, he wanted to act petulant. His world had shrunk three days ago, he suddenly lost a part of his new life- stolen by that bloody ginger prick. 

He groaned and rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow. How could he be mad at someone who was just trying to protect him? The answer was apparently: very easily. 

-

James had almost drowned once in his life, swimming off the coast with Miranda one summer and getting caught in a riptide. Now, although he was above water and laying in a comfy bed he felt the sensation for a second time. He thought of John for my hours, as the dark outside softly became sunrise. He thought of John's hair, and his lips. What was worse, he felt mournful as he had when Thomas had died. But John was alive, wonderfully so, and somehow it made it more painful. 

\- one week later...-

Eleanor hummed over a glass of champagne, the bass vibrating the floor boards of her office. She was in that fuzzy stage of tipsy, where everything felt warm and funny. She tugged the hem of her sequin dress, and sipped the flute politely. 

"Well, Mr. Hornigold, I think you're in for a deal." She finally said, hiding the smug smile as she saw the granny old man visible unclench. 

"You won't regret this Miss Gunthrie, your father won't either. I assure you, we're far more... civilised partners that Vane." 

Eleanor smirked thinking, yes but you're far less fun. "Let's hope your equally profitable." 

"Oh, we can take care the money there's no need to worry there." Hornigold chuckled, "a foolish mistake on his part, I must say. Mismanaging that much cash at once? I can't imagine." 

It had been infuriating, Eleanor grimaced, that he could try a trick like that. It was a typical con, loan a large amount of money then take the suckers for all they're worth through threats and violence. But this time, out of pure coincidence, his mark was Max. Once he'd told Eleanor- "we'll double the money it'll all work out"- she'd demanded he get it back immediately but it didn't work. Now Eleanor was basically penniless, defenseless and had no means to make her move on Hornigold's territory. So here she sat, betraying her ex-lover to secure a deal with a man she hated. She was trembling already with the thought of telling him they were no longer in business, she'd secured four more guards for tomorrow night in case he made a scene. 

"Indeed. The deal will be official tomorrow, after I break the news." Eleanor said, walking Hornigold to the door, "if all goes well, there shouldn't be an issue." The old man looked doubtful but nodded and shook her hand respectfully. 

Charles was prone to explosive reactions when circumstances didn't favour him, such as catching her and Max together. He'd broken a door, a guards nose and almost John's nose too. What the fuck was going to happen now. 

-

"I want to go out." John announced to Max and Billy once afternoon, standing in the kitchen doorway with his hands on his hips. It'd been a little over a week of John moping and  
sniveling in his room, while the others avoided him and got on with party preparations. Everything was almost complete, the date was set for three days time and John was trying to get himself more excited about it. 

"Is that really a good idea, Cher." Max said softly with raised eyebrows. John scowled at their exchange of worrisome looks. 

"I need to, y'know, blow off some steam or something!" He pleaded, "come oon, lets go to Eleanor's get pissed and make fools of ourselves on the dancefloor." 

"I've never made a fool of myself." Billy muttered. 

"That's because you never dance." Max chuckled, Billy nodded proudly. 

"Unlike you two stooges." 

"So is this a yes?" John asked hopefully, and grinned triumphantly when his partners nodded. "Get dressed!" 

The Pirates Tale was busy, it was Friday after all, John's mood had dropped on the way and he was sulking behind Billy and Max as they approached the doors. They were let in quickly, the heaving bass and swaying crows pulling them into the frow. Max took his hand and shoved through the crowd until they reached the bar- he was always impressed by Max's ability to make her presence know even with such short stature. She flung out a hand and a barman paused, took her order and turned to make them. Max stared up at him with knowing, perfectly smokey, eyes. 

"Mon Cher, stop thinking about him! We're here to get drunk!" She shouted, pointing firmly at the luminous cocktails pushed towards them. She picked hers up and took an elegant gulp, eyeing John hard until he followed her lead. 

After the first four drinks and three songs, John felt a whole lot better. His mind was still on James but he cared a little less, falling all over the dance floor with Max and relishing in the buzz of alcohol coursing through him. Max was laughing and twirling under his arm, she wore a party dressed- latte brown, with black zigzags- and her hair was platted to frame her face and they swung with her as she turned. 

"I need a drink, I can barely breath!" John called as the song ended, Max didn't seem to register his words as she kept grinning and twirling. He laughed to himself and weaved his way to the bar, as he tried to grab a barman's attention he saw new arrivals at the door; Charles Vane and his crew. 

Fuelled by alcohol, John's blood boiled and he glared at the asshole. It was his fault, John thought, James left him because of that guy it's not far. John cracked his neck, and sloppily made his way across the dance floor. He stepped, or rather stumbled, into Vane's path, blocking him from reaching the Mezzanine. 

"You asshole!" John yelled. Vane's nostrils flared and he glanced at his lieutenant who shrugged. 

"The fuck do you think your doing?" 

"You ruined everything you fuckin... ruiner!" What was left of the sober thought in John's mind cursed his lack of an eloquent insult. "And all because your girlfriend was fuckin' another girl?" John outright laughed in his face. "She isn't even yours, you fucker!" 

"It's about the fucking money." Vane hissed, shoving John slightly. Around them, people were starting to notice the confrontation and were watching. 

"Bullshit, you think you can just take it when you don't get what you want, right?" John taunted, waving his arms around, "well fuck you Vane, cos you ain't getting shit from me! You're a piece of work Charles Vane, you need psychological help! You cowardly, small minded little-" 

The punch was expected but John still reeled as the knuckles cracked against his cheek bone, and he fell back against the staircase. Vane came down with him, hand closing against his throat. John's drunken body didn't seem to follow instruction- his intention was to grab at Vane's hand was miscommunicated somewhere between his brain and muscles.

Instead, his arm shot out and clocked the man with his open palm across the nose. Blood splattered on the wall as Vane's head was jerked sideways, and John's palm came away bloody and aching. A gathering of wasted youths were heckling them with chants of 'fight, fight, fight!' but John just wanted to disappear as Vane turned back to him with a blood smeared face that made his furious expression all the more terrifying. 

"Oh fuck." Is all John could manage before fist connected with bone once more and he blacked out. 

-

Throwing oneself into work was probably unhealthy, but it's how James managed. He worked his ass off for eight days straight, silent and aloof toward his colleagues and customers; hiding in the kitchen from opening til closing time, then immediately leaving to the solitude of his apartment and letting Anne and Jack clean up. 

He had endured sadness, anger and regret for the first 72 hours and from then on he was drained and grumpy. John was all he could think about, he desperately wanted to see the man and beg him for forgiveness, but it was too late. He'd fucked it up. John would never taken him back after a betrayal of trust like this. 

He sighed and leaned over the paperwork in front of him, forcing himself to read the tax returns. He'd moved down to the cafe after he'd heard Anne and Jack leave, he preferred to do business work down here. It was still pleasantly warm from the cloudless day they'd had and the heat from the ovens, so James sat barefoot, in jeans and a vest. 

The pen bounced noisy off the metal surface as James tried desperately to concentrate. After reading the same line ten times, he gave up with a growl of frustration and lobbed the pen across the room. To further his irritation a commotion on the street drifted in, James eyed the silhouettes through the blinds as the walked by. He watched as they stopped outside and one of the figures detached themselves from the others and ran to the door. A small, dressed-up woman James recognised banged on the pane, calling incoherently. It was Max, John's friend, looking rather distraught. 

"What the fuck?" He groaned, torn between sneaking up the stairs before Max saw him and coming to her aid. He eventually decided to open the door- really he was a huge asshole already, why pile on? As he turned the lock Max gasped with a look of relief. 

"Oh thank God, Cheri! We didn't know where else to go!" She cried, James pulled the door open and caught a strong whiff of fruity alcohol on her breath. 

"What are you doing here?" He asked angrily, "it's almost two in the morning." 

"Oh, it was horrible! He just went crazy and-" 

"Who 'he'? Wait John?" James stepped out of the porch and to his left stood a tall muscular man, holding up a familiar bloodied body in his arms. "Holy shit." 

"Hi, mate, I'm Billy. I would be mad at you for breaking my friends heart but, uh, we kinda need somewhere to stow him." The man adjusted his grip on John who seemed completely unconscious, apart from the occasional gurgle of bloody spit. "He picked a fight with Charles Vane." James' heart sunk, of course John would do that. He rubbed his chin in frustration. 

"Alright get inside." James grumbled. 

He locked the door behind them, and helped Billy manhandle John up the stair while Max stumbled around them very un-helpfully. 

"Are you sober?" He asked Billy as they stepped inside and turned the lights on. 

"I am now." Billy snorted. 

"Okay, in the kitchen there's a first aid kit under the sink." 

Billy let John's full weight fall on James and he stumbled away. Sober my arse, James thought but it was better than Max who was half crying, half laughing as she looked at the bookshelves. John shifted slightly, his head rolling against James' shoulder and pressing into his neck. 

"You conscious?" 

John's fingers tightened on James' shirt and he let out a gurgling moan, fresh blood blotting his lips and the bakers shirt. 

"You're a pillock." 

Billy returned with the green box tucked under his arm, and together they moved to the bathroom. There, they lay John in the bathtub and James folded a towel under his head gently. James took a flannel from the sink and soaked it in warm water before sitting on the edge of the tub and tilting John's face to look at the state of it. 

"I'm going to check on Max before she jumps out a window or falls asleep in a cupboard." Billy said, adding when he glanced at James' furrowed brow, "it's happened before." 

Billy shut the door behind him, and James turned back to John. His face was more red than pink, the streaks obscuring the cuts and bruises. As gently as possible, James cleaned away the blood in long strokes. John winced, turning away from him but James held his face steady. 

"Why would you do this?" He whispered. 

Once cleaned up, James saw he had two emerging bruises on his cheekbone and jaw, and a cut on his eyebrow. His bottom lips was split in two places, at the edge of his mouth and in the middle almost perfectly central. James brushed his finger over them, his chest aching with sadness and confusion. John lifted his arm languidly, wrapping his hand around James' wrist. 

"'M sorry." 

"Don't... it's not your fault y- I'm the one who's sorry. You were right, I'm a coward. I was scared it was Thomas happening all over again. But this is different, you're different. I'm sorry. C-can you forgive me?" John smiled yet his eyes were tearful as he slid his hand over James' and pressed it against the curve of his jaw. 

"Perhaps." 

James smiled too and reluctantly pulled his hand away to reached into the first aid kit. "I need to sanatise those cuts okay?" 

John nodded and winced as the alcohol wipe touched his cut. "Got any paracetamol?" 

"In a minute. Stay still." 

"W-where's Max 'nd Billy?" 

"Max is pretty wasted." 

"Is she in a cupboard again?" John chuckled which turned into a cough. The cut on his lip spotted droplets of blood on his chin. 

"No, Billy's taking care of her." 

"Uh good." 

Satisfied with his handiwork, James gingerly placed plasters over the cuts. He leaned forward, smoothing his thumb over the dressing on John's cheek and cautiously placed a kiss there. "Softy." John huffed and leaned into the touch. 

"Let's get you into bed." James murmured, sitting up and offering his hands. 

"Ooh, you could at least buy me a drink." John replied, gripping James tightly as he swayed to his feet and swung a leg over the tub. 

"Seems you've had enough for the both of us." 

John's face fell and he looked up at James' sincerely. "That doesn't change how I feel, James. I still want to be with you. I'm going to wake up and nothing will change." James felt his cheeks burn under John's gaze. He realised John was leaning in, and just before their lips touched James ducked away. 

"That may be so, but I'm not kissing you while you're pissed as a parrot." John found this unnecessarily hilarious, but conceded. 

James kept an arm around John's waist as they moved into the bedroom, over the covers Max lay curled up next to Billy. Both were sound asleep. 

"Kids these days." John muttered and James' snorted. 

"Living room it is then." 

John sat on the sofa, carefully prodding his face and wincing, as James found a spare blanket and bottle of painkillers. 

"Don't do that." He tutted, handing the pills over. John took them gratefully, and dry swallowed them much to James' horror. "I'll uh, take the window seat." 

"Wait." John murmured, catching James' wrist and making his heart stutter. "Sleep here." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Of course." 

He sat against the arm of the chair and tucked one leg against the back cushion, letting John lay between his legs and pull the blanket over them. He felt awkward for a moment, unsure of where to put his hands. Eventually John noticed and turned slightly, "don't overthink everything." 

He took James' hand in his and held it to his chest. The warmth James' felt came with such a relief, he suddenly felt how tired he was. The safety of the body against his and the heart beat under his palm, encouraged his eyelids to fall. His other hand settled in the thick curls that fell upon his chest and he let himself drift into undisturbed sleep for the first time in days. 

-

The dull ache across his cheek stirred John first, then the throbbing in his skull woke him. He groaned, turning slightly and clutching at his forehead. Then a soothing hand touched his and stroked through his knotted hair. 

"Shh, it's okay." 

"Fuck, my head." John whimpered squeezing his eyes hard, under him James turned and reached for something that he pressed into John's hand. "Oh, thank you." He gushed and popped three painkillers. 

"You're welcome. Did you sleep okay?" 

"Mmm." John felt in a teetering point between sleep and wakefulness. "I don't think I'm awake yet." James' fingers continued to curl through his hair gently. 

"You can sleep some more if you want, it's pretty early." 

He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside.Last night was a little blurry; mostly everything that happened at the bar, but he knew full well the dumbass thing he'd done. He'd returned to consciousness- barely- standing outside the Urca Bakery, clutching Billy, with a mouth full of copper. 

It was surreal, now to be laying in James' arms as if the events of a week ago had never occurred. but that wasn't quite true, he could feel how tense James was. 

"I can't." John murmured, sitting up and regretting it immediately as his head span. Comforting hands supported his shoulders, steadying him. "What happened on the beach, it hurt me." 

"I-I know." 

"I'm sure it hurt you too, but I need to know this isn't going to happen again. I want to be with you, entirely but I can't if you going to constantly have second thoughts." John shifted to look at James who looked frightened. 

"I am. I'm all here, you've given me hope John. I didn't think I'd be able to have a relationship like- as fulfilling as I did with Thomas, until I met you. Thank you for opening that door." James said quietly. The sincerity of his words was audible, and John couldn't help himself. He wrapped his hand around the back of the bakers neck and tugged him into a sleepy kiss. It was messy and uncoordinated, and it stung the cuts on his mouth. 

James seemed to notice because he drew back and held John's head between his callous hands, his eyes travelling over John's features as if to make sure he was real. The baker gentle brought his lips to John's once more, trailing his tongue against the cuts before pushing into his mouth possessively. He swayed slightly, caught off guard by the passion of the kiss but recovered quickly, placing a hand on James' chest to lay him back down. He pressed himself to James' body, hands braced around his head. 

They went no further, simply holding each other and kissing until John's lips grew numb and he had to stop to take a breath. James' cheeks were flushed and his breath came raggedly. His pupils were encompassing the green on his eyes, but his hands remained at John's waist and hair, travelling no further- possibly out of apprehension or maybe chivalry. 

"I could do this all day." John murmured, but as he brushed his lips against rough ones someone cleared their throat loudly. They both looked around and saw a haggard looking Billy standing at the foot of the sofa with Max at his side, hair esque. 

"Or not." Billy croaked. James hastily sat up, forcing John to sit back. He pouted at James as he stood and nervously adjusted his vest, which was speckled at the collar with blood. Max was grinning wickedly, even though she looked wrecked. 

"Cock-block." John grunted, wrapping the blanket over his shoulder. He stood shakily next to his baker, clutching his elbow for support. 

"We've imposed too long, James. I forgot to thank you last night, we had nowhere else to go. Vane already knows where we live, so..." Max gestured vaguely. 

"It's okay, I could make you all breakfast?" James offered weakly. Max seemed to be about to decline but Billy perked up. 

"That'd be lush, mate." 

James nodded and glanced at John before padding into the kitchen. Billy and Max rounded on him the moment he was gone. 

"Are you guys back together now?" Max asked excitedly. 

"What are we gonna do about Vane?" 

John was distractedly touching his kiss bruised lips until Max punched his arm. "Ouch ya bitch." 

"Please, I'm not the bitch here. You've fucked us pretty badly babe, Vane is definitely not going to forgive you breaking his nose." 

"I broke his nose?" 

"Uh-huh, Billy pulled him off you and Eleanor appeared before his thugs could start a riot. She pretty much scolded him and he stomped off." Billy said smugly. 

"I'm a twat." John groaned covering his face with the blanket. 

"So are you back together?" Max hissed. 

"Possibly." 

"Ugh, cryptic doesn't suit you." 

"And yet I am." 

With that John went, with very little grace, into the kitchen. James was whisking eggs at the counter, and John thanked the powers-that-be for such a delightful display of domesticity, which he had not seen for too long. 

"You look good in a vest." John approached him and pressed his forehead against James' shoulder. 

"You look good in a blanket." Came the reply. He poured the eggs into the pan and turned toward John. "You'd look even better without the bruises." 

"Oh really? I thought they made me rugged." 

"Rugged is not how I'd describe you, John." 

"I'll take that as a compliment." 

"Hmm, you should." James' finger crept into John's hair, balling the curls into his fist and making John's scalp tingle. The kiss sent shivers down John's spin, James nipped and licked into him with heated purpose until John remembered their current predicament. 

"I want you." James' voice held such quiet desperation, it made him feel heady. 

John felt cruel stepping back, "nevertheless we should probably stop if we don't want to scar the children." James' hand lingered on him full of promise, then fell to his side dejectedly. 

At that moment Billy and Max walked in. "No more kissing in polite company." John gave James a pointed look that said 'see? Children'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending on a high note this time! 
> 
> Hope the POV change wasnt confusing, just preparing for plot -wiggles eyebrows-
> 
> aah all is well for our fav pirate husbands... or is it!?!?  
> Thanks for sticking w me even tho im terrible at updates <3


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